


will he hold your tiny face in his hands?

by boos



Series: riverdale belongs to the gays [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, lol when do i NOT write character studies tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 04:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13605867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boos/pseuds/boos
Summary: “They’re each other’s soulmates.” Veronica says, swallowing before she speaks again. “Good for them, don’t you think?”The words sound hollow, even to her.(Veronica's in love with Betty, Archie's in love with Jughead, and neither of them know how to deal with it. So they don't.)





	will he hold your tiny face in his hands?

**Author's Note:**

> i’m sorry this is sad!!! but also i can’t believe riverdale wrote the best, most heartbreaking line “they’re each other’s soulmates. good for them, don’t you think?” and then DEADASS never DID ANYTHING IMPORTANT WITH IT. like what a good line! what the fuck! just let them all be gay you cowards!
> 
> also - consistent timeline that parallels canonical timeline? don't know her. i only know snapshots and vague vignettes
> 
> title is from a song called does he love you? by rilo kiley, which is one of my fav songs of all time

These are the parts of herself Veronica Lodge left behind in New York: the mean girl, the bratty girl, the selfish girl, the oblivious girl. All the versions of herself she hated.

This is the part of herself she thought she left behind: the queer girl. The girl that kissed Nancy Davidson on a dare in the sixth grade and liked it. The girl who always drunkenly made out with her friends at parties to “get the boys attention, of course” and definitely not to feel soft lips under hers. The girl who watched literally every movie under Netflix’s “LGBTQ” category under the guise that “there was nothing else interesting to watch, duh.”

Then suddenly she’s holding Betty Cooper’s jaw and looking into her eyes, saying, _Trust me_ , before leaning into kiss her.

They pull back, and she thinks to herself, _Veronica, you dumb fuck_.

__

Kissing Archie makes her feel infinitely small for reasons she doesn’t quite understand. Still, she wraps her arms around his neck tightly, and stands on her tiptoes to press into his lips. He kisses back sloppily, like the true fifteen year old he is.

The closet air feels so stuffy and suffocating, and the knowledge that Betty is outside the door settles as an uncomfortable weight in Veronica’s chest.

Yet, she kisses Archie like he’s all she’s ever wanted. Veronica has always been so good at lying to herself, after all.

__

“Most of the time, the people we like don’t like us back.”

Betty’s eyes fall terribly then.

Veronica wonders how her voice didn’t crack all over the words.

__

Every time Veronica smiles and gives herself a pat on the back for becoming a better person, for changing, for not being a _mean girl_ anymore, what she’s really looking for is the reactions around the table. She waits for Jughead’s slight nod, for Archie’s encouraging back rub, for Betty’s beautiful, small smile that is so genuine and proud Veronica melts in the wake of it.

These moments almost make her forget about the one piece she can’t quite seem to get rid of.

She shares a milkshake with Archie and bumps shoulders with him when he makes a particularly bad joke. Not only does he look at her confused, like he’s not quite sure what she’s doing or why she’s doing it with _him,_ but every time he also instinctively throws a glance across the table at Jughead. Jughead pays no mind to his best friend, instead absorbed in his burger and milkshake, laughing between bites at something Betty’s showing him on her phone.

Veronica drops her hand on Archie’s forearm. “Archiekins,” she says, “It’s cold in here – do you think I could wear your jacket?”

As Archie places his letterman across Veronica’s shoulders, she sees Betty frown out of the corner her eye. Veronica tries to wipe it off her face by playing footsie with her under the table and stealing her fries, teasing her like a second grader with a crush.

Jughead eyes her wearily. “Veronica, if you steal my fries I’ll scream.”

Veronica has her ankles linked with Betty’s under the table, Archie’s letterman jacket wrapped around her torso, and french fries in her mouth. For a moment, she feels so in control. She can balance being all the people she wants to be with being all the people she’s supposed to be. She’s Veronica fucking Lodge.

Veronica laughs as Betty bats her greedy hands away from the plate of fries, although not before Veronica successfully catches one to throw into her mouth. She grins back at Jughead and says, “Jones, you are the last person I want french fries from.”

Betty frowns at her, “Play nice.” She warns, although it holds no real threat.

The only response Veronica has is to play footsie with her again, giggling the whole way through the rest of their meal. 

__

When Veronica was younger, her mother used to spend evenings brushing her hair out as they sat at the vanity in Veronica’s bedroom. This particular night, Veronica can’t stop talking about this new girl who had transferred into her sixth grade class last week, and who was becoming quick friends with Veronica. Veronica _really_ liked her. She made Veronica laugh so hard during lunch yesterday that Veronica shot chocolate milk out of her nose.

“And I mean,” Veronica rambles on, “Charlotte's so pretty, Mom. She looks like an angel – blonde hair, blue eyes, and she always wears these nice, flowy dresses.”

“You seem to be really good friennds with her,” Her mother comments, combing through the soft, silky strands of hair, “She sounds nice.”

But the words seem tense, like Veronica’s done something wrong. She swallows down the lump that has quickly appeared in her throat, and thinks of ways to ease this sudden, unknown problem she had created. “She always has the best accessories too,” Veronica says, “like yesterday she wore this gold bracelet that was so cute. Can I get one like it?”

Hermione laughs softly and says, “Maybe,” her hands starting to braid strands of Veronica’s hair together, “What happened to Nancy? Wasn’t she your best friend?”

Veronica’s mouth goes dry at the memory of the kiss they shared during truth or dare last month, and the way Nancy had been distant ever since. The way Nancy had glared at Veronica when the bottle landed on her and Veronica shrugged and leaned forward. The way she had pulled her aside after the party asking, _What was that?_ and saying, _Come on, everybody knows that if it lands on two girls or two boys that you don’t do it. You don’t – you shouldn’t have kissed me._ Veronica had stuttered out something about how, don’t boys think that’s hot? Won’t they like her more now? It hadn’t been enough. The way Nancy looked at Veronica in the halls now made a pile of shame grow steadily in Veronica’s chest, even as she held her head high and pretended not to see it. It wasn’t fair – it had only been a game, after all.

Veronica clears her throat. “But Charlotte just _gets_ me, you know?” she says and smiles at her mother’s reflection in the vanity.

Her mother smiles back, before tugging on another strand of Veronica’s hair and braiding it tightly with the others.

Her mother brings it up later, when the three of them are all sat at the dinner table. She mentions how Veronica has a new friend in favor of Nancy. Her father smiles at Veronica and laughs, before turning to Hermione and saying, “Ah, girlhood.” Hermione smiles back at him like they’re talking about some far away, abstract thing, instead of the mess of emotions swirling around in Veronica’s chest.

__

One day Veronica turns around and finds Jughead standing closer to Betty than she’s ever seen him be. Veronica’s stomach lurches. She pushes it away, like she does with every little feeling she doesn’t understand. She thinks she’s making it up.

In an attempt to find something else to focus on, Veronica’s gaze lands on Archie. His face is deep set with confusion at the sight of them, his brow furrowed, and his mouth in a frown. He runs his hands through his hair then, and shakes his head, looking away from Jughead and Betty as well. He makes eye contact with her accidentally, and they hold it for a moment before Veronica sighs.

She looks up at the ceiling of the school lounge and thinks about how moving here was supposed to be good. She was supposed to get away from every bad thing that hung around her neck like a noose. All Riverdale has done for her is give her better rope to hang herself with. 

__

Late night sleepovers at the Pembrooke with Betty consists of two pints of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream (one for each of them), old scary movies, tickle fights, and cuddling. Betty wears one of Polly’s old t-shirts and cottony pajama shorts that ride up just enough to reveal the soft skin of the top of Betty’s thighs. Embarrassingly, the sight of it makes Veronica’s palms sweaty.

Betty lets her hair down in halo around her face, and when she wraps herself around Veronica on the couch, slotting her head beneath Veronica’s chin, Veronica can smell her citrus vanilla shampoo. Her warmth spreads into Veronica’s body like she’s absorbing it all up, needs it to live, but the way Betty's soft skin brushes against her own makes her shiver.

These nights are hands down the happiest ones Veronica has in Riverdale. When Betty screams at the jump scares and the blood, Veronica giggles at her, only holding her tighter.

“Who would have thought Elizabeth Cooper is scared of a good old-fashioned horror movie?” Veronica teases her after the movie finishes.

“V, are you kidding? I love these movies.” Betty says, her stomach full of popcorn and ice cream.

“You can love something and still be scared of it.” Veronica says absentmindedly.

Betty shrugs. “True.” She turns to Veronica with a playful smile and asks, “What should we watch next time?”

They have a list on Veronica’s phone of all the movies they want to watch, and all the ones they have watched with their rating next to the title. So far, their favorite is _Carrie_.

When they go to sleep in the silky sheets of Veronica’s bed, Veronica watches Betty’s restful face with sleepy eyes. She looks so… so… Veronica doesn’t know. Veronica doesn’t even have the words for describing Betty’s existence. Instead, she has these feelings in her chest, the lightness there when she makes Betty laugh, and the sweet twist of her gut when Betty looks at her.

Veronica watches her face, the softness of it, her pink lips, her long eyelashes, the acne scars around her hairline that are fading with time, the little scar on the underside of her jaw that she got as a kid when she was learning how to ride a bike, and Veronica wants to cry. She wants to reach out and sweep her fingers on every inch of her soft skin. She wants with such force it makes her scream. She wants to roll Betty over and kiss her deeply, both of her hands cradling Betty’s face. She wants to go on dates to Pop’s and hold her hand in their matching Vixen’s uniforms. She wants to marry Betty, as stupid and cliche as it sounds, and have two kids and a dog and three cats, family Christmases and domestic bliss. She wants an expensive wedding that fulfills every childhood fantasy Betty ever had as a kid. She wants them standing at the altar, both of them in white beautiful gowns, as they look across at each other and barely be able to suppress their happy tears.

A part of her heart chants, _Jughead doesn’t deserve you, Jughead doesn’t deserve you, I deserve you, I deserve you_ , but deep down, she’s not sure if it’s true.

__

In the days that Jughead stays with Archie, Veronica can’t help but notice how much happier Archie seems. He smiles and laughs more, and, at the risk of sounding cliche, he walks with a pep in his step.

During lunch one day, all Archie seems to want to do is ramble on about how good this one article that Jughead wrote for the Blue and Gold is. Veronica missed the part in the beginning where he explained what it was about, and instead watches Archie’s animated movements. There is a pride and love that shines through his grins and a sparkle in his eyes when he praises Jughead’s wording. She watches Jughead’s face, the way he sheepishly grins toward the ground when Archie particularly gives him a heartfelt compliment and the way he squirms in his seat.

“Juggie, it was so good. You’ll be such a good author.” Archie rambles on, right before he stuff his face with his sandwich. “I can’t wait to read your books someday.”

Jughead rubs the back of his head, fighting back the embarrassed smile that so obviously wants to break out on his face. “Oh, _Archiekins_ ,” he teases, sparing a glance toward Veronica, “Stop it, you’re making me blush.”

Veronica snorts. “He’s been making you blush for the past five minutes.”

Jughead rolls his eyes, although not maliciously. He would never admit to it, but every now and then Veronica feels like he might be warming up to her.

Betty chimes in, “He’s right. It _is_ really good, Jug.” and then reaches her arm across the table to take his hand in hers.

At this, Jughead turns positively crimson, and he shares a meaningful look with Betty for a moment as he softly says, “Thanks.” Veronica watches as he squeezes her hand back tightly.

Archie clears his throat, interrupting their moment. “I’m going to get some Gatorade from the vending machine, does anybody want anything?” He asks.

Both the girls shake their heads.

“I’ll come with you,” Jughead says, already standing up and collecting his trash around the table, “I have to throw this stuff away, anyway.”

As they walk off in the distance, Veronica watches Archie playfully punch Jughead in the shoulder. She faintly hears Archie say, in the softest voice she’s ever heard him speak with, _It really was that good, Jug. You have to believe me._

Betty sighs fondly at their retreating silhouettes. She turns to Veronica and smiles. “They’re quite the pair, aren’t they?” She asks.

Veronica hums in agreement, and leans her head against Betty’s shoulder. “I think we’re a better one.” She says.

Betty laughs fondly, and then wraps her arms around Veronica’s torso. “I can’t argue with that one, Lodge.”

“No one could, Cooper.”

For a moment, Veronica closes her eyes and pretends nothing else beside this moment exists. Happiness melts her chest.

__

“You and Betty,” her mother pauses, “are close.”

They’ve had this conversation so many times over the past few years, except with different girls’ name slotted in place of Betty’s. Veronica smiles up at her Mom and laughs.

“She’s my best friend, Mommy.” She says.

“Blonde and blue eyed, just like Charlotte, hm?” Her mother asks, peering at Veronica over the rim of her reading glasses. Her gaze isn’t mean or judgmental, although it is hesitant.

Veronica thinks that in a different universe, one where her father is out of the picture for good or her mother is stronger than his nastiness, that her mother wouldn’t really care. That instead of this conversation being a vague hint at something neither of them have ever explicitly addressed, in another world Hermione would sit Veronica down and say, _Mija, I don’t want you to get hurt_ , and Veronica would cry her stupid eyes out and it would be fine.

In this world, Hermione is a dedicated follower to Hiram Lodge, his ideas, philosophies, and businesses first, and a mother to Veronica second.

“Yeah,” Veronica says, hollowly, “Just like Charlotte.”

She pictures Charlotte in her head then. Blonde hair and blue-eyed. Veronica wants to laugh at her predictability.

“You know, the lawyers think your father could come home sooner than we thought.” Her mother mentions as she flips to the next page in the book she’s reading. “Isn’t that exciting?”

The dread that forms in Veronica’s chest is palpable.

__

“They’re each other’s soulmates.” Veronica says, swallowing before she speaks again. “Good for them, don’t you think?”

The words sound hollow, even to her. When Archie looks away from Betty and Jughead and back down at Veronica, there’s something stony in his face that she feels in her heart. Veronica gets irrationally angry then, because at least she has the decency to hide it. At least she has the decency to try with him. Sure, she can lay her arm across Betty’s shoulder and call her _my girl_ , but she does it in a way where nobody will question if the action’s platonic. Sure, she hates when Jughead puts a hand around Betty’s waist, but she keeps her jealousy inside. She gives herself stolen looks and the thrill that rings up her spine when they brush hands, or when they have a sleepover and she wakes up with Betty’s arms wrapped around her, but she does nothing to give it away.

Archie, forever a lovable dumbass, watches the way Jughead touches Betty’s shoulder and looks like he’s going to _burst_. He stares at Jughead from across the table at Pop’s like a lovesick puppy. He laughs too loudly at all of Jughead’s jokes. Every time Betty compliments Jughead’s articles, Archie rushes in with seven more comments about how amazing they are, like he can’t bear not to one up Betty. Whenever Jughead’s in the vicinity, he radiates love like a first grader waiting to give his crush a valentine.

Now, he sits here all sad faced and disappointed like he didn’t expect this. Like he couldn’t see the way Betty and Jughead were always going to collide on a collision course. Like he and Veronica weren’t watching it happen.

She looks up at Archie from under her eyelashes, “Archie,” she teases, laughing forcefully, “What is it?” She smiles up at him, faux coy. Like she doesn’t know. Like she doesn’t understand.

Archie swallows. “Ronnie, I –”

Veronica’s phone bings with a text from Cheryl, and their life is exhaustingly, traumatically derailed once again.

__

Archie’s strong arms hold her underneath the warm flannel sheets of his bed. She stares at his face as his eyelids flutter in his sleep and her finger softly traces down the slopes of his cheekbones, the sweep of his jaw.

For a moment, she thinks she could live like this forever if she had to. That they could get by with each other. She _is_ fond of Archie, and there’s a goodness inside of him that radiates so much hope sometimes he makes her feel like a better person. She could deal with this. She could try and make some sort of happiness out of this.

A light turns on across from Archie’s window. She doesn’t turn toward it, but her finger stills on Archie’s face, the soft pad of it resting on his cheek.

Out of the corner of her eye, Veronica’s sure she sees a flash of pink.

“Good for them.” she whispers softly, so softly, to Archie’s sleeping face.

She wonders when people’s hearts break, if they can feel it. There’s certainly a sharp crumbling that’s been happening slowly inside Veronica’s chest for weeks, that’s now making tears sting in her eyes. Archie’s sleeping face is suddenly anything but comforting. It’s panic-inducing. It’s sad. It’s disappointing. She can’t do this. She could never do this. Her tears spill and soak into the pillow case under her head as she sniffs softly, trying not to make too much noise.

Veronica lays there, silently crying in the middle of the night in her boyfriend’s bedroom, and she wonders if she was born broken like this. She wonders even if everything went right and she got her happy ending, if Betty could fix her. All the terrible, fucked up parts of her.

She screws her eyes shut and thinks of things to make her happy, things that will allow her to calm down and not accidentally wake Archie with her mental breakdown.

The first image that comes into her mind is of church bells, two white wedding gowns, Betty’s blonde hair under a veil, a matching pair of gold ring bands, happiness. And then a cozy home with animals running around, movie nights under warm blankets, a large backyard with green grass and a tree house, two kids who come home to a safe, happy family. Something Veronica has never known, but wants to give to her own children. Although a part of her heart is raw and sore from these fantasies, there is a comfort in them that she holds onto until they drift her to sleep.

The last scene she thinks of before she slips into sleep is of Jughead and Archie, hand-in-hand, with kids of their own, coming over to have a barbecue in the backyard of Betty and Veronica’s fantasy house. It’s so stupid, ridiculous, and nothing Veronica will ever admit to herself except when she’s laying in bed in the dead of night, trying to kill her sadness. But it’s nice. It’s so, so nice to imagine a future where she selfishly gets the fairy tale ending she’s written for herself, and everybody else is happy too. Where thoughts of murder and suicide and blood are so buried in memories, no one ever brings them up again.

She falls asleep with tear tacks dried on her cheeks, dreaming about all four of them being stupidly in love with each other and growing old together.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! :-) sorry i only write sad things :-( i'm working on a long ass bughead fic rn bc i'm the worst lmao but after that i'd like to write happy betty and veronica


End file.
